Thinking Of You
by gingaloid
Summary: They say when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. Nobody told Emma Pillsbury that it's when you're in that fragile balance between life and death that the most important flashes start happening. Rated T for possible later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is a story that I've slowly been working on for a while now. It's got hints of Inception, but it's not based off of the movie in any way.**

**The plan is for this story to be about 8-9 chapters. Possibly more.**

**DISCLAIMER: The only character of my creation in this story is Millie Schuester. All other characters and GLEE belongs to RIB.**

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><p>The day started out as normal. Emma woke up next to her husband of six months, reached for the snooze button on the alarm and rolled over, kissing his scruffy cheek. She watched him wrinkle his nose slightly as she did so and couldn't help but think of Will. Would he wrinkle his nose cutely if she kissed his cheek good morning? The thought was interrupted by two dark brown orbs suddenly staring at her.<p>

"Morning, Carl."

"Morning, Ems."

They both rolled out of bed and went about their usual routine. It was Valentine's Day, but Emma didn't really have the heart to celebrate it, and Carl said that he didn't believe in Valentine's Day._ 'It's a corporate scheme, Emma. I cannot believe you buy into that mumbo jumbo.' _She watched him go into the bathroom and rolled her eyes, making their bed up. Sighing, Emma went to the spare bathroom, which she'd dubbed her own, and showered quickly and meticulously. Half an hour later, she stood before a steamy mirror, wrapped in a towel and brushing her teeth. She sighed.

No matter what she'd tell Will and her colleagues at work, her marriage with Carl was far from a happy one. After the newness of their spontaneity had worn off, he stopped being so loving towards her. He'd stopped coming by McKinley and picking her up for lunch, he was always coming home late from "extra appointments," and they hardly ever spoke. Emma wasn't stupid. She knew he wasn't coming to get her for lunch because he'd rather be at work than forcing her to be normal. His "appointments" were either him drinking late with some guy friends, or drinking and sleeping with other women since Emma still hadn't done the deed with him. And their silence? Farthest thing from comfortable. But she wasn't about to admit to Will, to Carl, to herself that she'd made the biggest mistake of her life walking away from Will, only to be trapped in a dead-end marriage.

Getting dressed was Emma's favourite part of the morning. It was the only time her husband ever actually looked at her and told her she was beautiful. In reality, being told she was beautiful didn't matter much to Emma; looks weren't important. However, Carl saying that she was beautiful meant that he was at least feeling _something_, even if it was shallow, about his wife.

This morning, Emma dressed herself in a red skirt with a crisp, white top and a black vest. She couldn't help but smile as she slipped the vest into her arms, tugging on it as it rested upon her shoulders. Buttoning the center button, Emma walked over and put in a pair of heart stud earrings and slipped on a pair of black pumps that were slightly higher than usual, but appropriate for school, nonetheless.

As she walked downstairs to make her usual breakfast of fruit and coffee, Emma paused. It smelled good downstairs, as if Carl was cooking, but he never cooked for her. Entering the kitchen, Emma smiled, seeing that he had in fact cooked breakfast for her. There was fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, and coffee with a container of soymilk standing next to it.

"Carl, thank you," she walked over and kissed his cheek gently, "I appreciate it."

She sat down at the island countertop and started eating slowly, checking her watch. She had a good half an hour before she absolutely needed to leave for work.

"No problem, Ems. I should get going. See you for dinner tonight at Breadstix? Seven o'clock."

Emma nodded. "See you then. Have a good day at work. I love you."

Carl just looked at Emma for a few seconds, then turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen. Emma sighed.

"Carl? Carl!"

Nothing.

Standing, Emma walked out to the living room, where he was putting his coat on.

"Carl Howell, I told you I love you."

"Yes, Emma. I heard you. See you after work."

With that, he was out of the door and on his way to get on with his day, leaving Emma standing in her living room feeling oddly rejected and pointless. She walked over to the end table, grabbing her keys, purse and lunch, then stormed out of her home, her breakfast in the kitchen forgotten in her feelings of pointlessness.

Once in her car and on the way to school, Emma turned on the radio, flipping through the channels at a red light.

_Thong song._

Sigh. Next channel.

_Hello._

Next!

_My life! Would suck! Withooooooooout youuuuuuuu!_

Emma slammed the radio off and shook her head, looking up at the sky.

"Really? Valentine's Day and my husband doesn't say I love you, then Will's songs come on? Seriously?"

She sighed, exasperated and finished the drive to school, unable to get into her office fast enough.

The morning seemed to drag on, but as the lunch bell finally rang, Emma breathed a sigh of relief. She closed her office door and pulled out her lunch, content to sit in the silence and enjoy her break from the teacher's lounge, from her husband, from the whiney students who seemed to have double the issues on a day dedicated to love. She was just popping open her container of grapes when a tapping on the glass door interrupted her. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she looked up, surprised to see Will standing there, one hand waving at her and one hand behind his back. She smiled and waved him in.

"Hey!"

"Hey, you weren't in the lounge, so I figured you'd be here. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Emma shook her head, staring up at the man before her. Just his presence in the room made her feel better, and everything was a little lighter and brighter. He was her sunshine. She would never admit to him or anyone else, but she'd given him that name long ago in private, because that's how she thought of him; always warm and happy, caring, loving. Even when Carl the Cloud seemed to hide him in the shadows, he always managed to shine that much brighter and worm his way back into her atmosphere. It was deliciously perfect.

"No, no. Not at all. Please, sit."

Will smiled his signature smile, and Emma's heart melted. She watched him sit down across from her and pull his arm from behind his back. It held both his lunch, and a small wrapped box which he placed on her desk. Raising an eyebrow, Emma eyed the box.

"It's not going to bite, Em. Just open it."

She watched him take a cookie out of his lunch and start eating it. Finally, curiosity got the better of her and she reached forward, taking the small box. She removed the bow, then the wrapping very carefully, so as not to rip it. Setting it aside gently, Emma opened the box. Her breath caught in her throat seeing what the box held.

Nestled sweetly on a red, plush cushion was a heart-shaped locket with _My Heart is Yours_ engraved on it. She stared at the necklace for a moment, trying not to cry. "Will…" she whispered the man's name quietly, staring blurry-eyed at the jewelry.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Em. I love you."

The redhead looked up in just enough time to see him leaving her office, closing the door behind him. Clearing her throat, she looked down at the necklace and picked it up, turning it over in her fingers. Opening it, there was a small piece of paper where a picture should be that said 'I will wait for you.'

Tears spilled over onto Emma's cheeks and she closed the locket with shaky hands, unclasping the necklace and putting it on. The cool metal burned a hole into her chest and she rested a hand over it. Drying her tears, she smiled, silently vowing to herself that she'd never remove that necklace as long as it was still intact.

The bell rang, startling Emma and she laughed slightly, throwing away the wrapping from her present; she quickly ate a few grapes before storing her lunch. She hoped to catch Will after school, and as the next scheduled student walked through her door, Emma began a mental countdown until she could see the man who'd always held her heart.

As the last bell rang, Emma was already out of her office and on her way to Will's classroom. She dodged behind a few jocks as Sue walked past, not wanting to deal with her, and then proceeded on her way. Upon reaching the empty classroom, Emma knocked twice.

"Mister Schuester? Got a sec?"

Emma leaned on the doorway and smiled, watching him light up at her presence. With a nod of his head, Emma walked into the classroom, closing the door behind her. They stood in an awkward silence for a moment, Emma looking Will over and Will's eyes scanning her body, coming to rest on the locket now gracing her chest.

"Emma, I feel like I need to ex—"

"Please, Will. Let me speak first," she cleared her throat, nervous. "I, uhm, I love the locket, so much. It's beautiful and it's sweet and it probably isn't very much to anyone else who would see it, but to me, it means the world and it says so much about you. About us. I…I love you, too. B-but—"

The rest of the statement was cut off as Will closed the gap between them, kissing her lips gently. She kissed him back, pulling away too soon, but at the same time, too late to prevent any damage.

"But I'm married."

A tear escaped Emma's eye and Will caught it with a thumb.

"Why are you crying? You're married, Emma, and I understand that you're happy and that I'm messing it up by telling you I love you, but I had to. And I will wait; as long as it takes. There's nobody else out there for me, nobody else like you. You're it for me, Emma. Whether you want to see that or not, and I will always be around, I will always be your friend – your best friend. I will always be in the wings waiting for you to call me on stage."

Tears spilled over a bit more and Emma hugged Will, shaking her head. It broke her heart that here was this man who loved her so truly, and her own husband couldn't even be bothered to tell her that he loved her before leaving for work. She couldn't tell him, though. It would just break her heart and his further.

"I'm just so thankful for you, Will."

She pulled away and wiped her eyes. "I have to go. I have a dinner tonight, but, uhm…thank you. For the necklace. For you."

She took a breath and turned her back on the man, walking out of his classroom and out to her car. She got in quickly and started driving home, refusing to allow herself to cry again. Emma told herself that she was going to see her husband and have dinner with him. She needed to focus on that, and not on turning the car around and running straight to Will's arms, telling him everything. How she dreaded going home to her husband and waking up in the morning to his face rather than Will's. She couldn't let her façade crumble like that.

Three hours later, Emma sat at a table in Breadstix, waiting for her husband to join her. She checked her watch. 7:45. He was almost an hour late. She was about to get up and leave when she saw him rushing into the restaurant, spotting her and hurrying back to join her.

"You're almost an hour late!"

"I had an appointment that ran late, Emma. Sue me. Did you order?"

"Yes. I got our usual. Nice to see you, too."

Carl sighed. "I'm sorry about earlier, babe. You know I love you."

Emma just nodded. The waiter came quickly with their food and they started eating in silence. They shared glances across the table, and though Emma tried to convey love in her eyes, she was sure all that was present was confusion. She couldn't help but wonder whether she should take advantage of Will waiting for her and just leave Carl, or whether she should be the honourable woman she thought of herself as and fix her marriage. She was about to speak up to Carl about how things had been between them the past few months, deciding on fixing the marriage, when he set his fork down.

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"The necklace. I didn't get it for you."

"Oh..uhm, f-from my mom."

He leaned forward to look at it, reaching across and turning it back and forth in the light.

"My Heart is Yours? Not something that sounds like your mother would give it to you."

Emma froze. Carl wrapped his hand around the necklace and yanked it, breaking the chain and pulling it from Emma's neck. She gasped and her hands flew up, one to rub her neck where the chain dug in, and one to cover her chest where the heart just was. Tears filled her eyes as she realized in him breaking the necklace, her earlier vow to always wear it was now broken. She blinked through the salty water and watched as Carl opened the locket.

"I will wait for you," he read out loud, looking up at her and glaring. "This is from him, isn't it? Dammit, Emma!"

He slammed his hand down on the table and dropped money on the table for their meal, standing and walking out of the restaurant. Emma stood quickly and followed him outside, finding him standing in the middle of a surprisingly almost empty parking lot.

"Carl.."

"Emma, what the hell is wrong with you? I MARRIED YOU! I DID, NOT HIM, AND HE KEEPS GIVING YOU THESE THINGS? HOW MANY OF THESE ARE THERE?" He held up the necklace up to her.

"N-none! Carl, there are none, I swear, this is the first one! But I love you, right? I married you, didn't I? Th-that necklace means nothing to me!"

Lying. This is why Emma rarely did it. It left a bad taste in her mouth and a burning in her throat. Her heart throbbed painfully with the implication that something from Will could ever mean 'nothing to her'.

"Nothing?"

Emma nodded, "Now, please. Can I have it back?" Carl raised an eyebrow and ran over to the road, throwing the necklace out into the darkness. He turned back to Emma.

"NOW GET IN THE DAMN CAR!"

Emma cringed and did as she was told, hurrying into the car and buckling up. She'd come get her car later. She closed her eyes as Carl started practically screaming at her, telling her all the things that he's done for her, all the things he is giving up to be with an OCD bitch who can't function if her shoes are out of place, how he's putting his dream of having his own practice in California on hold to be a husband to her. Emma let a few tears slide down her cheeks, silent as he yelled at her.

"Now you're _crying_? Emma, I am not giving you a pity party! I'm not! This is BULLSHIT! I give up _everything_ to be with _you_ and you're still not over that greasy-haired buffoon?"

Emma opened her eyes, ready to scream at Carl, how dare he say that about Will? He cared about her deeply – he was there through everything, even when she didn't tell him what all was going on. He _loved _her and how dare Carl talk about him in such a way? Her mouth snapped shut and she was stopped by the quickness of the scenery passing them.

"C-carl, slow down. You're driving too fast."

Carl rolled his eyes and pressed on the gas harder, still yelling.

"CARL! I UNDER—HONEY, PLEASE! SLOW DOWN! HON—CARL!"

_And that's when it happened. The voice that escaped my mouth can only be described as 'not mine' because when I look back on it, it didn't sound like Emma. It sounded like pure terror, so shrill and demanding, yet so frightened and weak. I reached forward; I don't know what for. Nothing I could grab in the passenger seat would be able to put a stop to that which was already in motion._

_I looked to my right and saw two balls of yellow coming towards me. Headlights had never been brighter or more threatening than in that moment. Though at the same time, they were screaming at me to get out of the way. I only wish I could have._

_They say when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes, and in the instant that my terrified amber eyes met the cold yellow glare of the headlights, my life went speeding through my vision. It really does flash. It's amazing how the mind works; fitting those thirty-two years of my existence into what must have been less than two seconds. Then realization sets in, and your life goes away and you're being thrown around._

_Will was the last person I saw before my head crashed into the side of the car. It was his warm, hazel eyes that I followed into the darkness as a hauntingly beautiful lullaby of twisting metal and shattering glass sang me out of consciousness and into the black unknown._


	2. Chapter 2

When she woke up, Emma was laying in her bed at home. The warm blankets were pulled up to her ears as she snuggled down into the pillows, reaching over and turning off her alarm. She sighed and opened her eyes, rolling over to say good morning to Carl. When she was turned to face the man lying next to her, hear heart leapt into her throat.

The man had curly, caramel-coloured hair and a slightly freckled back; he was breathing evenly, facing her. His face was so angelic when he slept that it saddened her to have to wake him up. Reaching out delicately, Emma shook him slightly.

"Mm!"

His face wrinkled as he groaned, obviously disliking the interruption.

"W-will? Will, wake up!"

Emma shook him again gently, continuing to do so until he opened one of his eyes and gazed up at her in the morning light flooding their bedroom. He ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes, turning on his back and yawning. Stretching, he looked over at her and smiled, propping himself up on one elbow and leaning forward to kiss her.

"What are you doing?" Emma inquired, watching him move closer to her. There was nothing more she wanted than to kiss Will good morning each day, but she was a married woman. It wouldn't be fair.

Will looked at her and frowned, sighing slightly.

"Well, I was about to kiss my wife good morning, but apparently she's still angry about the argument last night," he sighed again, looking up at the ceiling, "Emma, I've told you time and again. Holly means nothing to me. I don't care that she's teaching at McKinley full time now; I don't love her. I love you."

"Y-your wife?"

The redheaded woman looked at him, clearly confused. Will rolled his eyes, clearly not entertained by his wife's antics.

"Yes, Emma. My wife. _You_. For five years. Dammit, I get that you're mad at me, but you really don't need to act like this," Will began to climb out of bed and walk over to their bathroom, scratching his head, "Just don't act like that when Millie comes in, okay?"

"Millie?"

"Our three year old daughter, Emma," he rolled his eyes again and shook his head, slightly annoyed with Emma this morning.

Emma watched as Will walked into the bathroom and sat up, looking herself over. She felt normal, she looked normal. She pinched herself slightly; she felt awake and her ring from Carl still sat on her finger. Was it from Carl, though? The more Emma tried to get a grip on who the ring came from, Will's face began flooding her mind more and Carl's began to disappear quickly.

Moments later, Emma heard the pitter patter of little feet coming down the hallway and into her bedroom. A petite three year old stood in the doorway, her long, ginger curls messy from sleeping. Emma smiled and patted the bed.

"Good morning, baby girl."

The little girl walked over and scrambled up onto Will and Emma's bed, crawling to Emma and wrapping her arms around her neck. Her tiny arms squeezed her and her face nuzzled into Emma's neck.

"Hi, Mommy," she whined in a cute voice that said she'd just barely woken up.

Emma's arms wrapped around Millie and squeezed her gently, kissing her forehead.

"Did you sleep well, sweetie?"

The little girl nodded and Emma smiled, swaying from side to side slightly. She took the moment of silence to process things, memories of Millie in the past three years starting to make sense in her mind. She was comfortable with Millie, and the girl – her daughter – was comfortable around her. She shook her head slightly, putting her confusion off to a dream as Will walked out of the bathroom.

"Good morning, Daddy," Emma said, smiling at him. Referring to Will as 'Daddy' gave her butterflies in her stomach.

Will smiled, "Morning my girls."

Millie pulled her face away from Emma's neck and smiled at Will, "Daddy," she said quietly, acknowledging him before hiding in Emma's hair again.

"Sorry about earlier, Will. I had one of those really real dreams last night. Left me confused."

Will laughed slightly and bent over, kissing Emma's cheek.

"It's okay, baby. Sorry for getting so annoyed."

Emma nodded and stood from the bed, still holding onto Millie and followed Will downstairs to the kitchen.

They settled Millie into her spot at the table and Will made the three of them eggs and toast for breakfast. They were in the middle of breakfast when Emma heard Will speaking to her.

_Emma, wake up. Please, Em, wake up._

She looked up at him from her plate.

"I'm awake."

Will raised an eyebrow and looked at her, nodding, "Yes, you are."

"No, you told me to wake up. I – I'm awake."

Will shook his head, "No, honey, I didn't."

Emma swallowed and took a drink of her water, confused. She'd heard him, loud as anything, telling her to wake up. A few minutes later, it happened again, but there was another voice with it.

_Emma, please wake up for me._

_We pulled her out of so much twisted metal, it'll be amazing if she can breathe on her own._

Freezing, she sat up, fork halfway to her mouth.

"Is the news on?"

Will shook his head and reached over, feeling Emma's head, "Sweetie, I think you should go back to bed. You feel hot."

Emma looked at him, nodding. She licked her lips quickly, kissing Millie's head before going up to bed and lying back down. She felt her forehead; she did feel hot – extremely hot. Resting on the pillows, Emma closed her eyes, trying to sleep, but every few minutes, new voices were in her head, screaming things, rushing, beeping. After an hour, Emma rolled over in her bed and put the pillow on her head.

"Make it stop!"

"Make what stop, Mommy?"

Emma startled, having not heard Millie enter the room. She pulled her head from beneath the pillows and looked at the tiny ginger head barely peaking up over the edge of the mattress.

"Mommy's got a big headache," she nodded slightly, frowning.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little."

"Like falling off the slide?"

Emma chuckled slightly and nodded, "Kinda like falling off the slide."

Millie seemed to consider this for a moment before scrambling up onto the bed. She moved over to Emma and pushed away the blankets. Crawling down, she kissed each of Emma's knees. Then took her hands and kissed the base of each palm, gently setting Emma's hands down and looking at her expectantly. A smile spread across Emma's face, watching her.

"What was that for, Millie?"

"When I fall off slide, you kiss my knee boo-boos and my hannies," Millie nodded and smiled, "Then I'm all better! Are you better, Mommy?"

Emma's heart melted as Millie explained to her. Tears sprung to her eyes and she nodded, taking one of Millie's hands and kissing it gently.

"I feel better, baby girl. Thank you."

Millie smiled, clearly proud of herself. She lay down next to Emma and snuggled up to her, "Mama, I love you," she said, planting a sloppy kiss to Emma's cheek.

Emma wrapped her arms around Millie and held her close, pulling the covers up over them. She buried her nose in her daughter's hair and smiled; she smelled like fresh strawberries and sweet vanilla. Innocence.

"I love you, too, Millie."

"Mama, is Daddy sick?"

"No, baby. Just Mommy."

"Am I sick?"

"No, sweetie, just Mommy."

This seemed to put any worries Millie had in her little mind to rest and she fell quiet. She rested her head against her mother's chest and played with her sleeve gently. Emma began to stroke the little girl's hair gently, letting out a contended hum. She was feeling hot, and felt a sweat break out on her forehead, but Millie loved her so unconditionally. She didn't care that Emma was sick and burning up; she just wanted to be with her mother. Though she was feeling uncomfortable with the heat, Emma kept her arms around Millie and closed her eyes. Moments later, Millie began humming gently and Emma smiled. As she began to drift to sleep, an uneasiness crept over Emma. Something told her that this was wrong; her bed, her life, her daughter, all of it was wrong. Before she could delve into the subject further, she succumbed to sleep.

How long Emma was sleeping, she wasn't certain, but when she awoke, she was face down in a pillow, struggling for air. No matter how much she gasped, air would not enter her lungs and she couldn't move. Emma tried to scream out, but she couldn't.

_I'm dying,_ she thought to herself, tears streaming from her face and onto the pillow, her lungs aching. The voices returned in her mind, indistinct and mumbling as if she were submerged under water; that explained the suffocation. Moments later, she felt a sharp pain in her chest, as if someone had punched her, and suddenly, she was able to breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma lay face down for a while, focusing on breathing, her eyes squeezed tight shut.

_It's just a nightmare, Emma. Just a dream._

Her tears had subsided and her breathing regulated before Emma decided to turn over onto her back. She ran a hand over her face, but kept her eyes shut, sensing her surroundings before deciding to view them. Judging by the smallness of her current space and the lumpiness, Emma guessed she was on a couch. The smell of chicken and pasta wafted into the room and her mouth watered; it smelled delicious. It took a moment, but Emma registered the feeling of hands on her feet, massaging them. She scrunched her toes slightly and smiled, opening her eyes and looking down at the man before her, surprised to find Carl on the couch.

"Hey, babe."

"Hey," Emma smiled, looking at him and propping herself up on her elbows, "I just had the most ridiculous dream."

Carl released her feet and stood, kissing her head, "Yeah, Ems? What's that?"

She stood and stretched, following him as he walked to the kitchen to check on dinner. It was weird, standing in the familiar kitchen. Her dream felt so real, and she could have sworn she felt her daughter in her arms.

"Oh, uh, I just had a dream I had a daughter," she laughed slightly and shook her head, going to get a water from the fridge, "Which we both know isn't possible because we haven't, uhm…" Emma trailed off, taking a drink of her water.

Carl walked over to Emma and wrapped his arms around her, dinner forgotten.

"Yeah, but it could be possible, Emma. We've been married a while now. Let's make children."

Emma swallowed the mouthful of water hard and looked up at Carl nervously. Real or not, that dream proved one thing to Emma: she could only ever see herself mothering Will Schuester's children. Pulling away slightly, Emma shook her head and walked over to dinner, plating it up.

"I don't think so, Carl."

"Why not?"

"I – I'm not ready."

"Bullshit, Emma."

Emma slapped the spatula down on the counter and turned to Carl, ignoring the small splatter on the counter from the chicken's sauce.

"Stop telling me that what I think and feel is bullshit, Carl, because it isn't. They are my feelings. I'm not ready to be intimate with you yet. I'm sorry."

Turning her back on Carl, Emma finished plating dinner and went to hand him his plate, which he refused to accept. Instead, he stood, arms crossed and glaring at her as if he were a five year old. It was rare that Emma ever got truly upset enough to yell at anyone. When she did, it was when something was really rubbing her the wrong way, and the topic of sex with Carl _always_ had her immediately annoyed. That probably should have been the first sign that they shouldn't be married. Turning to the counter, Emma dropped the plates down and turned to him.

"Oh, so now we're going to sulk like a child because I won't sleep with you?" She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, "It is _my _body and they are _my_ feelings – you don't have to agree, but you do have to accept that."

Carl scoffed and rolled his eyes, "To Hell, I do! You are my wife, Emma and the moment you said 'I do,' you consented to consummating our marriage and sharing our bed for the rest of our time together."

"Oh, yes, I said 'I do' in a Church of Elvis. Real sacred, that is! Dear sweet Elvis Presley, _forgive me _of my reluctance to sleep with my pushy husband! I may have consented, but I did not agree to a timeline, and I did _not_ hand over my body!" Emma's voice was rising now and she couldn't help it. How dare Carl insinuate that she was obligated to have sex with him? If they were going to play the obligations game, Carl would be obligated to accept Emma, OCD and all, not forcing her to bottle it up.

"Why are you being such a prude all the time?"

"Why are you being such an asshole? I'll tell you why I'm being such a prude – you look at me, Carl, and I don't think you see Emma Pillsbury-Howell, your wife. I think you see Emma Pillsbury-Howell, your possession that you won on the battlefield against Will Schuester. You don't want to make love to me, you just want to make me yours!"

Her lower lip trembled slightly and tears stung her eyes. This wasn't the first time he'd brought up her being a prude about sex. He just didn't understand that this was a _big _deal for her. She didn't have all the experience of other women. She didn't have anyone she loved enough to risk giving herself over to completely, and the one man she had loved enough was married. Then slept with a random alcoholic and made out with the coach of Vocal Adrenaline. Her track record was shit.

Carl walked forward and grabbed Emma's wrist, holding her near to him. "You are mine, Emma. You became mine the moment that ring slid onto your finger."

Emma yanked her arm away from Carl and turned to leave the kitchen.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you! I'm not hungry."

With that, Emma stormed to their room, slamming the door behind herself. She lay down on the bed and looked at the wall, sighing. Carl was so different now that they were married, from how he was when they were dating. Back when they dated, Carl used to pick Emma up for surprises, tell her all the time how much he loved her, kissed her whenever he could, and held her close. Now it was all about work and sex – or the lack thereof.

Emma knew full well that it was hard for Carl and that she shouldn't get so frustrated with him. He only wanted what every other wife in the world would willingly give. She just couldn't do it, no matter how much she told herself she should, she couldn't. She didn't love him truly and she knew that. It broke her heart more than anything, knowing she was wasting both of their time.

Some time had passed and Emma heard their bedroom door open. Carl padded in quietly, walking over to their bed and lay down, moving over to Emma and pressing himself against her back. His arm snaked over her waist and he held her close, resting his head on hers.

"Emma, I'm sorry."

"No, Carl. You're not. Please leave me alone."

She didn't want to be in the same room as him, knowing it would result in a secondary argument. Carl didn't care, however, only hugging Emma close.

"Baby, please…" he kissed her ear gently, "I love you…"

"Carl! I said please leave me alone!"

Emma grabbed his arm and removed it from her body, rolling away from him and standing. She straightened her outfit and marched downstairs to the kitchen. Of course it was still a mess –why would he even bother to clean up the mess? Ignoring that he'd be pissed to find her compulsively cleaning their kitchen, Emma went to the cupboard, slipping on her gloves and pulling out her bucket of heavy duty kitchen cleaners.

She scrubbed the counters and the stove, the table and the windows. She washed the dishwasher out, and then ran it twice to ensure it was clean. Emma then washed all of the dirty dishes, putting the clean ones in the dishwasher and running it again. Hours passed and Carl never returned downstairs. Emma took advantage of this and cleaned until her arms ached and her knuckles felt raw through her gloves.

Emma was in the corner of the kitchen, scrubbing away at the tiled floor with Comet and a toothbrush. It was making her feel better, cleaning her kitchen so well. Smiling, Emma sat back on her feet before doubling over with a sharp pain in her chest. Again, she found herself gasping for air that wouldn't come, her chest feeling so full yet so empty at the same time. Her hands propped her up on all fours in her kitchen and she tried to scream for Carl, but nothing would come. Squeezing her eyes tightly, Emma felt herself begin to black out. It didn't take long for everything to go black, despite the fact that she could feel herself blinking. She saw Will's face in the distance and a hand outstretched in the darkness. She reached for it, straining against her pain, and grabbing a hold as he came closer. Closing her eyes again, Emma followed the beautiful man farther into the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4  Will

**A/N: So I think we can all agree that as a writer, I am a lover of drama and pain. I don't exactly understand why. Also, I always write Carl as an ass, because in my mind, that's all he is. Sorry if you disagree with that in this chapter. This is also from Will's perspective, so the view of Carl is always going to be altered and biased.**

**There's also occasional change of tense throughout this chapter, and it's for a reason. It should become clearer later on, if this continues to go the way I am hoping it will.**

**Also a note: This chapter speaks a bit on suicide, so please be aware of that when you begin reading. As always, R&R is greatly appreciated and enjoy! Chapter 5 should be up in the next few days! (: -Tayma**

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><p>I stood at the window, looking into the room through the blinds. The woman in the bed was so frail, so tiny. She was always tiny, always so small and petite, but something about her now made her look even smaller, like a young child. She had a tube down her throat because twice, now, her lungs failed to do their work on their own. They say she's got a collapsed lung in addition to the cracked ribs. A bandage covers her head, and all I can think is <em>God. She still looks beautiful<em>. Even in the middle of this mess, her face covered in bruises and cuts, she still looks like an angel.

I run my hand through my hair for the millionth time, just staring. I can't stop looking at her, praying to God that she's okay. I rarely pray; I don't know how. I don't even know if God is hearing me, but I'm pleading with him to listen to me. I'll be different. I'll treat her differently, I tell myself, as long as she wakes up.

There is a man behind me, talking on a cell phone. He's making light jokes and banter with whoever is on the phone and I want to turn around and scream at him. How can he say he loves her? How can he claim that he's always loved her when now, in her time of need, he's not there for her, holding her hand and whispering to her that she'll be okay? I wish I could be the one to do that for her, but I can't. I'm not family and visiting hours are over.

"Alright, I'll talk with you later. Yep. Bye."

I hear his phone snap shut, but I don't move to look at him or even acknowledge his presence. He's not here as far as I am concerned. I have every intention to just ignore his existence completely, but those intentions are thrown away when he walks over and stands next to me, arms crossed.

"Schuester, you can go now," he says, his voice slightly cold.

I glare over at him, the asshole who stole her from me. He was pulled from the car with hardly a scratch on him and just a broken arm with a clean break. He'd heal fast and the worst scar he'll have remaining will be the memory of being run into by a full-sized Ford Expedition and the damage to his convertible. Meanwhile, his wife lay on the other side of the window, ribs cracked and a lung collapsed. They say her head rammed into the side of the car on impact and she had a fracture in her skull; the swelling in her brain has finally started to go down. They don't know the extent of the damage, though, and I heard them telling Carl that it could range from nothing to memory loss. Just the thought has my eyes stinging with tears. I don't want her to forget me.

"I don't plan on leaving anytime soon, _Doctor Carl_." I spit the last two words at him, my face set in an angry stare, "How does that title feel now that you can't even help her?"

He stares at me for a moment and I roll my eyes, looking back at her. Her chest rises and falls, rises and falls, rises and falls. It should be comfort that she's breathing, but it's a machine doing it for the most part, I think. I don't know. They won't tell me and Carl is reluctant to ease my worries. Instead, I stand here and watch, drawing my own conclusions.

I'm grateful that Emma asked me to be her emergency contact when her brother moved away this year.

"_Why isn't Carl your contact?"_ _I'd asked her. They were married; it only made sense in my mind._

"_Because, Will. What if Carl and I are both hurt in an accident or Carl and I split up? You're my best friend and I've known you longest. Please?" The look in her eyes was hard to resist. Then again when was Emma anything other than irresistible? _

I agreed because what were the chances of actually needing to contact me? It was emergency contact for a reason and emergencies were rare. It's terrible seeing the woman you love taped up and hooked up to machines, but I'm glad that I am her emergency contact. I have no doubt Carl would have kept me in the dark, had I not been called by the hospital.

"Look, bro. I'm a teeth doctor. Excuse me for not knowing how to revive a half-dead body."

I clenched my fists. How could he be so nonchalant about this? His wife was – just as he said – half dead in that bed, and he talked about it as if he were talking about the rainy weather today.

"Fine, I'll excuse you for that, but I won't excuse you for being an arrogant asshole who can't even be bothered to comfort her in her time of need."

He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone went off again and I scoffed as he went to answer it. "Go for it. Go on and answer it, please complain _again_ to whoever is calling that your arm is broken. By all means. Maybe this time, you won't forget to mention that your wife has a broken arm, cracked ribs, a collapsed lung and a brain injury." With that, I stalked off to the cafeteria. I couldn't stand to listen to another complaining phone call, listening to him act like a martyr when the woman "we" loved couldn't even breathe on her own.

Sitting in the cafeteria, I'm surrounded by people, but still feeling so alone. The green jell-o does nothing to settle my anxious stomach; if anything, it just makes it turn even more uncomfortably. I settle for a steaming hot cup of black coffee. It's bitter and leaves a terrible after taste, but it's comforting, the taste is somewhat exactly how I feel. My phone buzzes and I fish it out of my pocket, looking down at the screen. _1 Message: Finn Hudson._ I open the message and read it quickly, _Hey, Mister Schue. Rachel wants to take over Glee since you aren't here today._

I sigh and can't help but let out a low laugh. It would be something as trivial as this when I feel like my world could be collapsing. I text Finn back quickly. _Tell Rachel I said Glee is canceled for the day, no excuses. I should be back tomorrow._ I hit send and return my phone to its resting place in my pocket, taking another drink of the disgusting black liquid. My eyes glance at the clock. I've been here for eighteen hours, now, staying through the night and getting zero sleep. When I talked to my mom, she said I was being dramatic and a worry wart, staying here when her husband was here as well. I told her she didn't understand. I loved her, and maybe I was overreacting, but Carl was underreacting, and if Dad were in Emma's place, she'd do the same as me. She had no argument.

After some time in the cafeteria, I walk around the hospital and I head down to the ward I come to on Wednesdays to sing to the kids. A few of the nurses there recognize me and wave or give me a smile, and I return the smile. I see one of the doctors I usually see during our Wednesday sing alongs and she allows me to go through her rounds with her, cheering up the kids and talking with them about how their week's been going. By the end of the hour, I'm feeling a bit less tense and a bit more hopeful. These kids don't realize that they make me feel better in the same way that my music helps them to feel better. Thanking the doctor, I head back to Emma's room, sitting on the ground outside of her room and leaning my head back against the wall. A nurse is just leaving from checking on her; not much has changed. I begin to doze off after a few minutes, the squeak of shoes against linoleum and machine beeps creating an odd sort of lullaby.

I'm unsure of how long I sat there on the floor, my butt going numb from the floor beneath me. When I awoke, I woke up both too soon and too late. It was too soon for me to be well rested enough to fully register what was going on. It was too late for me to take one last glimpse of Emma before hearing the high-pitched flat line of her heart monitor. I stood as quickly as I could in my groggy state and crossed the hallway so I wasn't in the way of the attendings and the nurses rushing into and out of the room. My mind was spinning and I looked around, wondering where Carl was. He should be here, but he's nowhere to be found.

Through the window, they're charging panels and someone starts compressions on her, attempting to start her heart again. The airbag over her mouth is pumped in calm patterns and I want to yell at them to pump faster, push her heart harder. Tears are filling my eyes and everything is slightly blurred. No. She's not allowed to die on me – not now. Not when I love her and I haven't even been able to properly show her. She can't die alone.

The doctors aren't doing anything to help. They just kept saying, "We're losing her" over and over again, and after a few moments, I have to stop listening. I take a deep breath and walk away, wiping the tears from my eyes. I can't listen to them anymore. I cannot watch her die. Instead, I walk to the nearest stairwell and start climbing up, up, up until I come out on the rooftop of the hospital and suddenly, I'm fifteen again.

I walk around up there, trying to breathe. Thinking. Remembering.

There was a time when I was in love with my ex-wife. Terri. She was everything to me, my whole world and I couldn't understand why she'd like _me_ of all people. I was the nerdy Glee kid, but when she started dating me, I climbed the social ladder. She made me cool and I had never felt anything like I felt when I was around her. She tethered me to this earth; she was my center of gravity.

Aside from dating Terri, I always felt inadequate and as though I was a disappointment to my father. He had big dreams for me, wanting me to go to college and become a lawyer – fulfill the dream that he was never able to. All I wanted to do was sing and dance, study at NYU and star on Broadway. When I was caught cheating on a test, I knew my father would be so disappointed in me, even more so than he was on a daily basis. He'd always made me feel like I wasn't good enough and all I could think was _I am nothing but a disappointment, and this is just going to solidify that fact. Why am I here? _So I went to the roof of the school and contemplated jumping. It wasn't the first time I'd thought of leaving this world, but it was the first time I'd put it into action. The only thing that made me stop was the thought of Terri, the girl who held my heart and made me feel special. She tethered me to this planet, and I couldn't leave her. I stepped back from the edge.

Now, Terri's gone, but I have a new tether. Emma. She stole my heart the moment she began work at William McKinley High School. I first saw her on my way to class one morning. She was dusting and polishing her nameplate. Her ginger hair was beautiful, but paled in comparison to her beautiful, angelic face. Her Bambi eyes took my breath away and her smile stopped my heart. I was a married man and happily so, but everything changed when I saw her for the first time. She became my gravitational grip on this world, but what if she's leaving it?

I walk to the edge of the hospital building and I look down over the edge. I'm suddenly fifteen years old again, but instead of having a tether holding me to this planet, my tether is fraying floors below me. She could be leaving me now, and can I handle that? Can I stay on this Earth without her? I know the answer is no, but I can't bring myself to jump. There's a small voice in the back of my head saying _She may not be leaving. She may have stepped out for a moment, but she's returned. What if you leave and she wakes up to find you gone?_

I step away from the edge of the rooftop and sit down near the door, taking a deep breath. I calm myself before standing again and opening the door. "She'll be okay." I speak the words out loud, hoping that vocalizing the thought will solidify it as truth. I start descending the stairs to go back to her room, praying to God that she hasn't left me.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Alright, so here is where things are going to start to taper off and it should definitely start making more sense. Thanks, guys, for reading! It's very possible that Chapter 6 will be up tonight**. **I know it's ridiculous how much I'm writing, but once I get an idea, I write until I can't anymore, so I hope you all are liking that I'm actually updating. As always, Read and Review - greatly appreciated!(: -Tayma**

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><p>Emma stared down at the toothbrush in her hand and the tile of the floor she was scrubbing. Everything had gone black for a moment, but she took a deep breath as her sight was returned to her, everything returning to focus. She sat back on her heels and huffed out a breath, her eyebrows furrowed. How long had she been there scrubbing the floor? She dropped the toothbrush in the bucket of water and removed her gloves, running a hand over her stomach gently. She froze. Even that seemed weird; why couldn't she remember being pregnant?<p>

Shaking her head, the ginger stood up and carried the bucket to the sink. Turning the hot water on, she began to rinse out and wash the bucket and the toothbrush, trying to jog her memory. She hardly remembered waking up this morning and when she did, Will had breakfast ready for her and Millie. Emma focused, but she had a hard time remembering what she ate just hours ago and she frowned, sighing. Her mind felt like it was in a haze, like there was something lying just beyond her reach that would give her all the answers, but she didn't have any idea what that something was.

When the bucket was clean and dry, Emma went to store it in the closet before going into the living room and turning on the television. It was rare that she had time to watch television, but Will insisted that she take as much time as she can relaxing, something that was a difficulty for Emma to do. As she sat back on the couch, drawing lazy patterns on her tiny belly, Emma's mind drifted and she started thinking of Carl. Where was he, and hadn't they been married? She supposed that must have been ages ago now, but then why did she still have on that same wedding ring? Or was it from Will? Things were getting harder to remember. Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. Why did nothing feel right today? There were too many questions and not enough answers.

The front door opened, pulling Emma from her stream of inquiries and she opens her eyes just in time to see Millie bounding towards her, her little pigtails bouncing with each step.

"Mommy!" she exclaims the word with such enthusiasm, Emma can't help but beam at the child as she hops onto the couch and reaches to hug Emma. She pulls her daughter close, kissing her temple gently and rubbing her back.

"Hi, princess. How was your play date with Tommy and Janette?"

The tiny ginger shrugged her shoulders slightly, sighing. "It was okay," she said, "but they didn't like hearing about my baby sister."

"Oh, no? Why's that?"

"I don't know. But it's okay."

With that, she kissed Emma's cheek and ran upstairs to go play in her room, leaving Will and Emma alone in the living room. Walking over, Will sat next to Emma and kissed her gently. He placed a hand on her stomach and rubbed it gently. "How are my two ladies today?"

Emma bit her lip and looked at Will, swallowing, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" A hint of panic flit through Will's eyes and Emma knew that wasn't the way to approach this. She placed a hand on his arm and rubbed it gently.

"I mean today's weird for me. It's like I don't remember anything…" she trailed off, thinking of how to explain what she meant, "It's like I'm in a complete and total haze. I remember you waking me up sort of, and I remember you making breakfast kind of, and then I was cleaning the floor and I don't remember getting there, and then I couldn't even remember being pregnant." She ran a hand over her face and sighed, "Am I crazy?"

Will shook his head and pulled her close to him, kissing her forehead.

"No, Em. You aren't crazy. You haven't been sleeping well the past couple of nights. You're always kicking and talking, gasping for air like you can't breathe, and a few times you've started crying in your sleep. I always wake you up and you reassure me that you're fine and it was just a dream, but then it happens again. You're probably overtired and stressed out about Rebekah and preparing for her and trying to help Millie adjust to everything."

Emma sighed and closed her eyes, nodding. She rested her head against Will's shoulder and her dream from the previous night came flooding back to her.

_She was in a car and someone was yelling at her. It was a man, but she couldn't see his face. His side of the car was completely dark, no matter how many streetlights they passed under. The car was speeding fast, too fast for the area they were driving in and Emma started to scream at the driver to slow down, but he continued yelling, accelerating and running through intersections like a bullet. _

_She's crying and she can feel the tears on her cheeks, constantly coming despite her repeated attempts to stop crying and keep breathing. She looks to her right and there's a huge vehicle heading right towards them. The driver finally stops right in the middle of the intersection and the headlights are getting closer, brighter. A voice is screaming, but she doesn't register that it's her own and she's struggling in the seat, wanting to get the seatbelt off but it's tightening. There's a horn blaring and CRASH! _

_The car is crumpling and bits of it are flying every which way. She screams for help, for Will, for anybody just before her head rams into the side of the car and everything goes black._

"Emma. Emma!"

She was shaking uncontrollably and someone wasa nudging her awake. There were tears in her closed eyes. She sniffled.

"Emma! Honey, it's just a dream, sweetie. You're okay. Wake up for me."

Emma jolted awake with a shuttering breath, eyes flying open. She focused on the two hazel pools before her and the calm voice easing her into alertness, a gentle hand stroking her hair, soft lips against her forehead. She was crying and her breathing was ragged as she attempted to gulp in as many lungfuls as she could. She threw her arms around Will and held onto him tightly, burying her face in his neck and starting to sob.

"Shhhh. Honey, you're okay. You're here with me," he said, his voice warm and soothing, his hand stroking her head and back gently.

Emma hadn't even realized that she'd fallen asleep when she closed her eyes against his shoulder. She didn't understand what was going on with her lately, first the memories, now the nightmares…it was all getting to be too much and still something didn't seem right.

She felt as though she was bouncing between realities, one day content with Will and the next confused about their relationship. She wanted to believe more than anything that this was right, their life and their love, their baby girls. Something in her mind told her this was wrong. Something was not adding up and the harder she fought to grasp onto the thread of truth, the more tangled the thread became until it was almost impossible to unknot the twisted reality she felt herself a part of.

When she'd calmed down, Emma pulled away from Will, wiping her eyes on her sleeve gently. She mumbled out an apology and was prepared to explain the dream to him when Millie bounded down the stairs. In her innocence, she had no idea that she'd just walked in on her mother having a breakdown.

"Mommy, Daddy, can we go to the park now?"

Emma couldn't help but smile at Millie. She was probably, no definitely, the most adorable four year old Emma had ever laid eyes on, and it was crazy that she was her own.

Will looked at Emma hesitantly, "I don't know about that, Cupcake. Mommy's not feeling to well."

Emma looked at him for a moment and then back to Millie. The little girl's face fell slightly, but she tried to hide her disappointment with a sad smile. "Okay, Daddy," she said, turning and starting up the stairs.

"You know what, Millie? Mommy's feeling a lot better. Why don't you run up and get your shoes and coat, okay jellybean?" There was no way she could say no to Millie, especially with such a sad little face.

Beaming, Millie nodded and ran upstairs excitedly and Emma watched her before turning to Will and looking at him sternly.

"I cried. I'm better. Let's not upset her because I'm having a hard time sleeping, okay?" She leaned forward and pecked his lips before getting up and going to the closet to put on a pair of shoes and her coat.

x-x

When they returned home from the park, both Schuester women were exhausted. Millie'd fallen asleep in the car on the way home and Emma was close to doing the same. She allowed Will to be the one to carry her in the house, losing the argument because he said it's not fair that she gets to carry both of their girls. When Will went up to lay Millie down for bed, Emma went to the kitchen to make a salad. Will and Millie had eaten while at the park, but Emma had a hard time eating on the floor. She was in the middle of eating her salad when Will finally appeared, looking extremely tired.

"We're getting old," she commented, laughing slightly. Will just nodded and rested his head on his hand and watched her eat. Emma blushed slightly and continued eating, feeling self-conscious. She didn't understand that Will thought she was beautiful all the time, no matter what she was doing. He could stare at her for hours and all he would find would be more perfection, more reasons to love her. He stared while she ate, then as she did the dishes.

Emma turned as she finished and looked over at him, raising an eyebrow, but saying nothing. Instead, she walked out of the kitchen with a smirk and turned the light off, walking to their room. Her nightly routine was performed perfectly and she was changed into her pajamas and in bed in record time. Will was a bit slower and he crawled in next to her, turning the lights off and moving closer. Her head rested on his chest and her arms wrapped around him gently.

"I'm afraid to go to sleep," she whispered quietly, remembering the dream from earlier.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

They were quiet for a few minutes, Will rubbing her stomach soothingly, Emma listening to Will's heartbeat.

"Whatever it is, Emma, just know that I'm always here, okay? I love you. I won't leave you."

She swallowed, tears forming in her eyes at his comforting words. She nodded.

"I love you, too."

Emma closed her eyes and gripped tightly onto Will's shirt. Something weird was going on, and she knew it, whether Will said it was just sleep deprivation or not. Will fell asleep long before Emma did and she laid there, her head on his chest, listening to his even breathing and his stable heartbeat.

She was just drifting off to sleep when things started changing. Will's heart stopped beating. She jerked away slightly, resting her head back on him and listening, her own heart rate picking up. His heart stopped, but…it hadn't. Instead of the comforting _tha-thump, tha-thump_ that was his heartbeat, there were beeps. Erratic beeps, beeping faster and faster, louder and louder, starting to run into one until–

_!_

Emma's eyebrows furrowed and her hand hurriedly moved to rest over his heart. It was still beating normally, but for whatever reason, instead of hearing the beats, there was one, loud, long beep resonating within his chest. She swallowed and turned to look up at him and it happened.

Everything went black again and Emma could hear voices. "We're losing her!" They just kept saying it over and over again. Her chest started to spaz as if she was being jolted and breathing was becoming hard again. Gasping for air, Emma's eyes flew open and the scene was different. There was a light in front of her and she was being pushed toward it, rather than pulled into the darkness by Will. Millie stood to her side, crying and gripping Will's legs.

"Daddy!" she cried, "Daddy, we're losing her! We're losing Mommy!"

Emma started crying, seeing the look on her daughter's face and even though breathing was difficult, she gulped in enough air to look at the little ginger and shook her head, "Mommy will _always _come back." Her eyes closed again and she realized that the beeping wasn't coming from Will's chest. The beeping was coming from within her and she realized in that moment that yes, everything was wrong, none of this was real, and she was pretty sure she was dying.


	6. Chapter 6 Emma

**A/N: Alright, so hopefully this is going to clear some stuff up a bit. I almost decided not to post this chapter and write something else in its place, but my wonderful friend Tori convinced me otherwise, so thanks, Tori!(: The idea for this chapter came the other night when I was half asleep and listening to KT Tunstall (I am still not sure why it was her music that inspired this). That being said, I've started on Chapter 7 and it's well on its way - should be up in the next day or two. **

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><p>When I wake up, my vision is blurred and swimming. It's bright and I have to squint against the painful light and my head is throbbing. I've never been drunk, but if I had to guess, this would be the feeling of a hangover. Sitting up, I find that I'm on the floor, wrapped in some sort of a sheet like a toga. Everything is white here and I look around, wondering if I am alone and why I'm alone.<p>

And then it registers. I'm dead.

Something in me tells me that I should be crying for everything I left behind, everything I lost by leaving the Earth, but I can't. Things will be better. Carl won't have me to worry after, Will won't have me to fight for, and my parents won't have a less than perfect child. I won't have my insecurities about my disorder, I won't have Carl to worry about sleeping with, and I won't have Will's heart in my hands to break any further. Maybe this is for the best.

I sit on the ground for a long time, thinking. I don't think I'm in Hell. It's not hot here, there's no fire and everything is far too pure. I just never pictured Heaven as being this lonely. Does Will know I'm dead? Does he care? What am I wondering that for? Of course he cares. I hope he's not crying or blaming himself. There was nothing he could have done. If anyone is to blame, it's Carl.

Carl. Is he okay? Is he crying? Does he hurt? Is he alive? Maybe he's dead – but then would I see him here? He needs to know that I blame him. That's possibly a very awful thing to be thinking, but I do. I blame him and he needs to know that I could never accept him doing this to us; to me.

I'm not a vindictive person, not in the slightest. But I'm hurt that a man who purports to love me would endanger my life in the manner that he did over a _necklace._ I suppose it was more than just the necklace, though. I think he knew that I loved Will and that my heart would forever belong to him, no matter how long Carl and I were married, whether or not we'd have children, or bought a house together. It was about more than the necklace; it was about what the necklace symbolized. The most ridiculous part of it all is if he wanted to keep me, he just had to learn to love me the way that Will had, the way that I knew Will would if we ever got together.

I'm in the middle of my thoughts when someone is walking towards me, pulling me out of my contemplations. The woman who approaches me is a tiny woman with wispy white hair. Her eyes are my exact shade of amber, and we have the same surprised, innocent Bambi look about us. After a moment, I realize this must be my Grandmother, Sophia. She died long before I was born, but I remember her from pictures.

"Grandma…?" I ask hesitantly. I know full well that this could be whatever it was that I was living out before I died; it could be completely fake.

"Emma Roxanne," she breathes quietly, "I've been waiting for you for a few hours now. You're a tough one."

She shuffles over and grabs my hand gently. She smells like strawberries and vanilla, just like Millie did. Her skin is soft and worn, it feels slightly leathery in my grasp, but it's comforting.

"You've been waiting for me to die?"

I can't believe I'm hearing this straight.

"Die? Emma, you're not dead. But you can be. It's all up to you."

I shake my head and I look at her, "I don't understand. If I'm not dead, than am I alive? What about Will and Carl and which life was real – the one with Will and Millie or the one with Carl?"

Her answer is simple and it surprises me when she says, "Neither." I stay silent, waiting for her to go on and explain this to me, because nothing is making sense to me. Finally, after what feels like forever, she continues on.

"Neither of those are real, Emma. They are just potential. In your real life right now, you may be dying. You had a hard time breathing on your own and your lung collapsed. You went into cardiac arrest and they were able to revive you and insert a chest tube to help you breathe again, but you're still not there. You're here. Now you have the choice to make. Live or die. Will or Carl."

I shake my head. It's not that simple. "It's not that simple," I say, looking at her, "You don't understand if I choose Carl, I hurt Will more than anything, more than I already have been. If I choose Will, I shatter Carl's heart and ruin my marriage. I need to have them both."

"You're forgetting the most important part of the equation, Emma."

"What's that?"

"You."

"I'm in the equation. I'm stuck between Will and Carl."

She shakes her head, "No, Emma, no. I mean to say, how do _you _feel? If you choose Will, how does that make you feel? If you choose Carl, how does that make you feel? Leave their feelings out of the equation. Yours are all that you need to focus on."

I sit in silence, taking this in and evaluating it. Life or Death. Will or Carl. Funnily enough in this moment, life and Will seem synonymous in my mind, as do death and Carl. I think back to my potential life with Will. We have a daughter who is adorable, we could have another adorable child coming into the world, and everything feels blissfully normal. I only had one potential moment with Carl, and we fought in it. Over sex.

It starts to become apparent that my mind is showing me what would make me happy and what would hurt me, not based on what Will and Carl tell me, but based on what my heart says. I know more than anything that I don't plan on starting a family with Carl. I don't want to make it more permanent than it needs to be, just in case.

I look back to my Grandmother and sigh, "When will I know how I feel?"

"You already do."

"No, but I don't. I don't know how I feel, which is why you're here, isn't it?"

She shakes her head, "No, sweet girl. I'm here to make you know that you've made your choice. You made it when you took that necklace from Will. You made it when you rehearsed for that _Rocky Horror_ show with him in his classroom. You made it when you chose to stay at your job to be near the man you cared so much about. You _know what you want._ Now it's just a matter of you realizing it and going to get it."

Grandma Sophia starts walking away from me and I scurry to my feet, following her.

"Where do I go when I decide?"

She turns toward me and continues walking, "Go where your heart leads you."

Now she's gone. I'm alone in the echo-y white expanse of space and I call out in frustration, but get no answer back. Sighing, I begin to pace. My mind goes back and forth between Will and Carl. It feels like hours have passed when I come to a decision. I know which I have to choose because it's the right thing. I know it's going to break the heart of the man who loves me, but I have to do what would be best for me in the long run.

"Okay! I've decided! Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

Silence greets me. I sigh and lay on the floor. It looks extremely clean and I'm exhausted. If nobody is going to come for me, then I may as well get comfortable. Closing my eyes, I curl up on my side, wondering if this is all a trick and whether or not I really am dead, before I finally drift off to sleep.

_I'm in the car and Carl is yelling at me. He's just insulted Will and I open my eyes, whipping my head toward him. How dare he say that about Will? Will cares about me deeply! Even when now I am lying to him and keeping secrets from him, he loves me and how dare Carl talk about him in such away? As I open my mouth, I register how swift the scenery is passing us and my mouth snaps shut for a moment. I swallow and regain the ability to speak._

"_C-carl, slow down. You're driving too fast."_

_Carl rolls his eyes at me and presses on the gas harder, still yelling at me about Will._

_"CARL! I UNDER—HONEY, PLEASE! SLOW DOWN! HON—CARL!"_

_And then it happens. The voice that escapes my mouth can only be described as 'not mine' because when I hear the scream, it doesn't sound like Emma. It sounds like pure terror, so shrill and demanding, yet so frightened and weak. I reach forward; I don't know what for. Nothing I could grab in the passenger seat would be able to put a stop to that which is already in motion._

_I look to my right and see two balls of yellow coming towards me. Headlights have never been brighter or more threatening than in this moment. Though at the same time, they are screaming at me to get out of the way. I only wish I could._

_They say when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes, and in the instant that my terrified amber eyes meet the cold yellow glare of the headlights, my life goes speeding through my vision. It really does flash. It's amazing how the mind works; fitting those thirty-two years of my existence into what must have been less than two seconds. Realization sets in, and my life goes away and I'm being thrown around._

_Then, as if time slows slightly, more flashes start happening. New flashes. I'm walking down the aisle in a wedding dress, a little flower girl is walking before me and an instrumental of Wedding Bell Blues plays as I walk toward the gentleman waiting for me at the end. I'm standing in front of a house I've just bought with my husband, all of our belongings in the yard and in moving trucks as we prepare to move everything in. I'm in the hospital, holding our baby girl for the first time and her daddy bends down to kiss her nose gently, whispering an introduction to her. We're taking a walk on the beach and children are running a few feet in front of us, splashing in the water. I turn to look at my husband's face._

_Will is the thing I see before my head crashes into the side of the car. It's his warm, hazel eyes that I follow into the light as a hauntingly beautiful lullaby of twisting metal and shattering glass turns into a symphony of beeping and voices, welcoming me back into consciousness._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Soooooo sorry that it took so long for me to update. Crazy family issues are going on and I had exams. So this is a little shorty. Chapter 8 should be up soon. -Tayma**

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><p>"She's stable and she's breathing on her own, but we still need to watch her. The swelling in her brain's gone down and her heart's been going strong since her last episode. Now we wait for her to wake up."<p>

Emma lay on the standard-issue hospital bed, listening to people talking. Her brow furrows slightly, wondering who on earth could be the poor soul they're discussing. She sounds pretty bad off, and Emma's first thought is that she should pray for the young woman. She shifts slightly in her bed and is hit by a wave of soreness. Her back feels completely out of alignment and her neck is killing her. She takes a breath and moves to run a hand over her face, flinching slightly when her hand comes into contact with her head.

"Well, well. Emma? Emma, can you hear me?"

The voice sounds nice and Emma's eyes flutter open. She squints and recoils in the brightness, but takes a breath and opens her eyes more. Breathing hurts. She clears her throat and nods weakly, her throat feeling extremely raw.

Her finger starts moving in front of Emma's face and she starts to follow the distraction, swallowing thickly.

"Good. Alright, can you tell me your name?"

"Em–" She clears her throat again, her voice rusty from so little use, "Emma Pillsbury-Howell."

"And your age?"

"Thirty-two."

"Can you tell me, Mrs. Howell, what year it is?"

"2012."

The doctor nods, writing some notes down and smiles. "Well, Emma, it's nice to see those big eyes I've heard so much about. I'm Doctor Fitz and I've been taking care of you for the past day and a half. You're in Lima Memorial Hospital and you were brought in after a car crash. You had some swelling in the brain, but that's gone down now, and a collapsed lung which is on the mend. You cracked six ribs, broke your leg, and a tiny fracture in your skull. You're pretty bruised up and your face is a bit scratched up, but nothing too terrible. You did go into cardiac arrest yesterday evening and we were almost unable to revive you, but you're quite the fighter. Must have something waiting back here for you."

Emma nods, trying to process all of this. She clears her throat again. "Yeah, you could say that. Is my husband here?"

"I'm afraid not, no. He left yesterday, but he's asked us to contact him when you've woken up."

Emma bites her lip slightly and tears pool in her eyes. He was okay and he left her in the hospital _yesterday_. She almost died, and he couldn't be bothered to stick around. Emma sighed and nodded slightly, sniffling and blinking her tears away.

"You should probably contact him, then."

The doctor nodded and gave her a reassuring smile, "It's wonderful to see you awake, Emma. If you need anything, just press the call button and a nurse will be in right away," she began to walk to the door and stopped, halfway out of the room and glanced back, "By the way, you have a visitor. He's been here since you were admitted last night. Should I let him know you're okay?"

"Who, uhm, who is it?"

"Your emergency contact. A mister…" she looked through the papers on her clipboard, "Schuester. Mister Will Schuester."

Emma swallowed and nodded slightly, her heart starting to flutter in her chest. The machine reflected it and the doctor smirked, "Alright, I'll let him know."

"Thank you."

Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes, resting back against her pillows. She was sore and exhausted, which didn't make sense. If she'd been here for as long as they say she's been, you'd think she would be well rested, though she knew better. Bodies took effort to heal and from the sound of things, there was a lot of healing for her to do. Sadly, no amount of bandages and plaster could help heal the emotional damage she'd be causing and experiencing.

She didn't open her eyes again until she felt the side of her bed sinking down and a clearing of the throat. Emma looked up just in time to see hazel eyes meet her own, Will's hand gently holding on to hers.

"Hey, Em."

"Will. Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

His face was so concerned, his forehead creased in contemplation as he examined her, as if her words and promises of being fine that he knew were to come wouldn't suffice.

"I'm fine. Tired. Sore. You? Why are you here?"

"Emergency contact."

"Oh."

_Emergency contact_. Emma couldn't exactly tell why those two words hurt her so much. Somehow she'd allowed herself to become disillusioned in the five minutes before Will arrived into thinking he was there because he loved her still.

"I'm sorry about the crash. And Carl. I can't believe he just left you, Emma. I couldn't leave you alone, and when they almost couldn't revive you." Will shook his head, his lower lip being pulled between his teeth as his eyes closed. "I just kept thinking, 'She can't die alone. She can't leave me.'"

Emma swallowed and looked down. "I remember the crash. We fought over you."

She was blunt. Why hide the truth from him? He'd find out eventually.

"I know, Carl gave me a nice snide comment about it. Look, Emma. I just, I love you so much and I know I'm probably not who you want right now, but—"

Her hand lifted and Will stopped, taking the gesture as a sign that he needed to stop talking.

"Yeah, I know you do. I love you, too, but I can't. My marriage is falling apart and I'm in the hospital. This isn't a Nicholas Sparks book, Will. I don't wake up from almost dying and run into your arms. This is the real world and I need to speak with my husband."

Emma couldn't look him in the face as she spoke. Her eyes focused on the hospital-issued blanket, avoiding what she knew would be a heartbroken expression. The weight of the bed shifted and Will cleared his throat again. She could tell he was leaving, but he stopped at the door. He didn't face her as he spoke.

"I'm glad you're okay, Em. It literally almost killed me."

With that, he was out of the door, his shoes squeaking on the ground as he left. Emma raised her gaze and stared at the wall across from her, chewing her lip.

"He's quite the looker, Emma," the nurse said as she re-entered.

Emma wiped her tears away and sniffled, "Yeah, he is. Can, uhm, can you call my husband? I need to see him."

"We just did. He said he'll be here in about an hour or so."

Emma nodded as her vitals were checked, then rested her head back against the pillows, wondering what the hell she just did.


	8. Chapter 8

******A/N: SOOOOO firstly, I am so sorry that I haven't updated as soon as the others. There was a lot of family drama going on and it distracted me from writing, but I FINALLY HAVE IT DONE. This is the final chapter before the Epilogue *sniff*sniff*. I know that you may not think this has the most concise ending in this chapter, but I feel that it ended perfectly in the way that I want to. That being said, enjoy and the Epilogue will be up in abooooout two minutes. Read and Review makes me smile and makes wemma babies giggle!**

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><p><strong>Will's Perspective<strong>

_I can't._

The words flew threw my brain, sticking and detaching themselves from the walls in my head, only to turn and come back the way they came, constantly bouncing around in my skull. She can't? She can't what?

She can't love me?

She can't love me _now_?

She can't have this conversation?

What _can't _she do? Because I know Emma, and I know that she can do _anything_ she sets her mind to. Anything that she wants to. Can't isn't in her vocabulary. Even when it comes to her OCD, it's always 'I can but I don't want to' or 'I can, but this is my lot in life; this is who I am meant to be.' It's never that she isn't capable of. Because Emma is capable of everything.

Home felt so unwelcoming as I walked through the door to lay on the couch. Even though Emma was married, there was always that spark that told me never to give up. Somehow, we'd end up together. After leaving the hospital, my thoughts changed. Was I diluting myself into thinking that we could have a relationship after all? How could I allow myself to think that Emma would eventually leave her husband in favor of me?

That's where Emma and I are so screwed up. As much as we care about and love the other, we can't just allow the other to be happy. It's never about their happiness, it's always about our own happiness and how happy it would make us to be with the other, regardless of how unhappy the other has to be in the process. She'd never admit it, but I know somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach, Emma was thankful to hear that Terri lied to me about our baby. It meant that she messed up and opened a path for Emma, and she took that and ran with it. To be honest, I never considered divorce from Terri until Emma suggested it, and after that, it was all I could think about. Emma found some iota of happiness in my pain.

I'm not saying Emma's a terrible person, because she isn't. Even with the most foul of intentions, her heart is pure, as are her actions. She wouldn't admit to it, because if I know Emma, she would be beating herself up over those feelings of joy when I'm in pain. I wouldn't be so kind. I wouldn't feel even the least bit bad about being happy if Emma and Carl divorced or separated. I could move in and show Emma what a true man is. What it's like to actually be loved properly for who you are, not how you are.

So here I am. Laying on my couch and wondering where everything went wrong and what Emma meant. Did she know what I meant? Does she know that I literally almost died because I thought she was, too? Does she know that I would do anything for her? Does she know exactly how I love her?

No. Because she can't.

**Emma's Perspective**

I don't know what I just did, or why I did it. No, yes I do. I'm in the hospital and from what I hear I almost died. I remember my dreams, I remember feeling like I was suffocating. I remember my life with Will, my daughter…our daughter. I remember everything so vividly, so why did I let him walk away? Because I can't.

I can't love him right now.

I can't have this conversation right now.

I can't fall apart and tell him everything I'm thinking when my husband is on his way and I need to talk to him first.

I can't let him hold me and tell me it will be alright when I woke up knowing that I have to make this choice.

I can't.

I'm not unfaithful, and I can't let Will make a dishonest woman of me. He loves me, yes, and I love him, but he is not my husband. No matter how many times I close my eyes and make a wish, Will Schuester is not my husband. Carl Howell is.

Carl.

Oh, just the thought that he left me here alone really grates at my nerves. What if I died? What if Will wasn't here for me? How could he leave me, just like that? I understand that he's in fine condition. I understand that sitting around the hospital isn't exactly a wonderful way to spend your time. Still. I am his _wife_. He claims to love me, but now I don't know how he can, if he's willing to just let me be here, hanging in the balance between life and death while he's free to do whatever he pleases.

I bet he went to the office. Carl's always working, whether I need him or not. 'Emma, money is important,' he always says. 'I want to give you the life you should have.' He can't see that the life I should have is one with a husband who loves me and sits at my bedside while I'm dying. The life I should have is a happy one where I'm not crying after an argument every single night. I should have a life where when I say 'I love you' I get the same in return, and when I look at my husband with so much love in my eyes, I should get love in return. Not a blank stare. Granted, it's not as much love as I know I look at Will with, but it's still love that I want reciprocated to me. Even if in a small amount.

What did Will say? _It literally almost killed me._ What did that mean? Why should me leaving affect him that greatly? I'm not even his. Even though I am.

There's a knocking on the door now. Great. Carl's here.

Emma's eyes flickered open again, hearing a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Her voice is still slightly scratchy. She watches as her husband enters the room, closing the door behind him. Emma shifts in her spot slightly, wincing from the pain it causes. There are so many bruises on her body in places she didn't even know existed to be hurt. Her neck turns towards Carl as he sits next to her. Emma swallows.

"So you're awake."

_Wow, Carl. Wonderful to see you, too._

Emma just nodded once, a tiny smile gracing her pale lips, "I'm awake. I see you're looking…far better than I feel?" She let out a low laugh, eyeing his cast.

"You got the most of it. The car slammed into your side of the car," Carl shrugged, looking at her, "I got the left over momentum."

Emma nodded again and turned, looking ahead of her at the clock on the wall. Carl sat next to her, playing with his cast absentmindedly. Silence fell upon the couple and the minutes ticked past. Carl had nothing to say. Emma had no voice.

There was no need for 'I love you' when in all honesty, there was no love in the room. There was a distance between them that was far more obvious than it had been as of late. Or Emma was finally noticing it, instead of ignoring it and trying to create her idea of a perfect marriage for so many months.

A lump started to form in Emma's throat as the minutes ticked away, and after ten minutes of suffocating silence that spoke far louder than words ever could, Emma took a deep breath, trying to breathe through what felt like bricks weighing down on her. After several attempts, the simple words escaped Emma's lips quietly.

"We're done, aren't we."

There was no emotion as she spoke. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

"Yeah, Ems. I think so. My heart's just not in it. Hasn't been for a while."

Emma bit her lip and nodded, closing her eyes as a few rogue tears rolled down her cheeks. She heard Carl stand, but she didn't say anything or open her eyes. The door opened and Carl took a moment to clear his throat. "I'll be gone before you get released. It's been good, Ems."

With that, he was gone, and Emma was left alone in her room. It wasn't until she heard the click that signaled the door closing that she let out a sob. She cried until her head throbbed not just from the mild concussion but also from the force of her tears. Her breathing became difficult and she shook her head, unable to accept why she was crying. She cried for all that _could _have been. She cried for the knowledge that all this time, she _could_ have been with the man who loved her more than anything. She _could _have been in a more healthy relationship. She _could _have had a relationship that wasn't a rushed marriage in Vegas followed by months of sadness and regret.

Is thirty-two too young to look back on your life with nothing but regret? No, Emma decided. No it was not.

She'd just about cried herself out when the nurse returned again. Emma quickly dried her tears on the back of her hand and sniffled. "I've got a headache," she muttered, laying back against her pillows. Nodding ,the nurse gave her a pain killer and told her to close her eyes, that everything would be okay.

_No, it won't. My husband and I are over, and the only man who loves me, I told him I can't. _

Emma kept her mouth shut, opting to nod once before closing her eyes and doing as she was told. It wasn't long before Emma was asleep again. This time, there was nothing but blackness behind her eyelids.

No Will. No Millie. No Carl. Nobody. Just blackness. Emptiness. The only presence was a gentle voice that Emma recognized as her own, wondering where she went wrong in the world.

Once fully healed and released from the hospital, Emma wasted no time getting back into the swing of things, no matter how much her doctor told her that she should still rest. Rest wasn't an option for Emma as she continued to keep busy with work, cleaning, painting, anything that would keep her mind off of Will and Carl notifying her about their marriage ending.

Time passed quickly after that and when summer rolled around, Emma's marriage to Carl had been expunged for two months. They'd discussed it and decided that annulment was the best for both of them. It wouldn't look _as bad _as a divorce would, not to mention there was no marriage consummation, so this was just the easier route to take. School letting out was both a blessing and a curse for Emma.

It was a blessing in that she looked forward to summer because it meant visits with her brother, loads of leisure reading, and relaxing between cleaning-intensive weekends. Summer meant less of Will, which was especially a curse this year. After returning from the accident, Will hardly made an effort to be around Emma, and she couldn't exactly blame him. She still sat with him at lunches, but they'd been strained and only random small talk. He'd stopped walking her to her car after Glee Club, and Emma stopped writing silly notes on the student request forms she'd have to send him if a child needed excusing from class.

It was the end of July before Emma made herself come to terms with her feelings towards Will. He'd been on her mind since the day that final bell rang, signaling a three month break from the halls of McKinley. She'd pushed all feelings to the side, though, saying that she was trying to fill the spot that Carl had vacated, but she knew deep down that really all she was wanting was Will. No ulterior motives. No needing to get over Carl – she was over him the moment she signed the annulment papers. She wanted Will. Plain and simple.

As she walked up to his door that early Saturday morning, Emma had no idea what she was going to say or do to explain her presence. It was eight in the morning and she desperately hoped Will wouldn't be sleeping as she rapped on the door gently. After a moment of nothing, she rapped again, seeing his car in the driveway. Finally, Emma heard the door being unlocked and stepped back just as the door swung open.

There stood Will Schuester in jogging pants and a tank top. His sneakers were on and laced and he had his iPod shuffle clipped to the hem of his shirt. The grey tanktop was marred with a dark grey half circle over his chest and he was breathing heavily, his skin glistening with sweat. He'd been working out.

Emma took a moment to stare at him, swallowing hard and reminding herself to breathe and close her mouth. She was here for a reason. When no words came, Will raised his eyebrows, pulling out his earbuds.

"Emma…?"

Her name on his lips brought her back into focus and she looked up at him, shaking her head as she spoke breathlessly.

"I love you."


	9. EPILOGUE

**A/N: And here you have it! The completion to _Thinking of You_. Thanks to everyone who did R&R! I know there aren't too many reviews, but they still encouraged me to keep writing this story. Alas, it's come to an end, but no worries, kids! I always have one idea or another coming to mind and I should be starting a new fic in the next couple of days - a multi-chapter. SO **I feel like as an Epilogue, this really ties it up, in my mind at least. E**njoy, Read and Review, and...that's all! Til next story, kiddos!(:**

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><p>Emma walked up to the school building, holding the little girl's hand in hers gently. Her father stood to the other side of her, holding her hand just as softly as the young girl yammered on and on about all the plans she had for her first day at Pre-School and all the friends she would make.<p>

Millie Schuester was four years old going on twenty. She had no idea that she was only four years old, seeing herself as much older than her years. Today, she'd begged her mother to tie her hair up in a French braid, her ginger locks curling at the end where the braid came together. She was clad in a tiny blue-and-white polka-dotted dress and had matching navy ballet flats on.

As they reached the entryway to the school, Will's hand reached out and opened one of the double doors, holding it open so their little girl could walk through, pulling both of her parents as she eagerly entered. She ripped her hands from them and turned to face them. "MOMMY! DADDY! WHICH WAAAAAAAY?"

Will and Emma laughed, looking at the bulletin board of the classes and finding Millie's name and class number.

"This way, buggy." Emma pointed one way down the hallway and reached out, snatching up Millie's hand with a laugh. "Calm down, Mill. We'll get there, baby girl." She led her to the classroom and smiled, introducing herself, Millie, and Will to the teacher before the woman bent over and smiled at Millie.

"Hi, Millie. I'm Ms. Elizabeth. I'm so glad to meet you and welcome you to class today!" The woman looked about twenty-four years old and her deep brown hair fell in loose ringlets around her thin, joyful face.

Millie reached out nervously and took the woman's hand. "Hi." She smiled and bit her little lip gently, looking in the room and eyeing the other children.

"Millie, can you read your name?"

Millie nodded proudly, "Yes, an' I can spell it, too! M-I-L-L-L-L-L-I-E." She smiled proudly and Emma laughed.

"We're still trying to get her to calm down with the L's. She says it's her favourite letter," Will spoke up, smiling down at his daughter.

Ms. Elizabeth smiled at Will and Millie, a playful smile on her lips as she let out a giggle, "Well at least you've got all the necessary letters in their right order. We've got a place for you at one of the tables with your name on it. There's a fresh box of crayons for you and a colouring sheet. You can find it whenever you go inside." She smiled and stood to look at Will and Emma. "It was wonderful to meet the two of you. If you can please excuse me?"

Will and Emma nodded, smiling as the teacher went over to greet another little girl and her twin brother who'd just arrived. They turned to Millie who was now looking at them with a worried expression.

"You can't come, too?"

"No, sweetie, but we'll be here just before lunchtime to pick you up, okay?" Will leaned down and kissed the top of her head gently while she nodded.

Millie seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding. "Okay." The little girl turned to Emma and smiled at her, reaching up for a hug.

Emma obliged, reaching down and kissing her cheek, hugging her gently. "I love you, baby girl. And don't worry about a thing. Mommy will _always_ come back." She smiled and kissed the little girl's forehead, smiling at her again, remembering back to after the accident, having promised her dream Millie the same thing.

"I know, Mommy," Millie shrugged, "Like the last time."

Emma looked at Millie puzzled, "What do you mean like the last time?"

Millie placed a finger on her chin as if thinking back over her very short, young life and sighed. "The last time, when I was tiny and we only just meeted, and it was dark and you were leaving. I was crying, but you said it was okay and you always come back. And you did!" She smiled and kissed her mother's cheek before scrambling out of her arms as a little girl came over and asked her to colour.

Tears pricked Emma's eyes and a lump formed in her throat as she watched the little girl prance away without a look back. The last time? But…that was just a dream…wasn't it? Will's hand sliding into hers brought her back to focus and she stood, smiling over at him. He kissed her cheek and they walked back out of the school and towards the car, Emma still wiping tears from her eyes.

"Emma, she'll be fine. I know she's growing up so fast, but we'll pick her up at one and she'll have had a blast." He opened her car door and leaned down to kiss her gently, his free hand coming to rest on her barely-a-bump baby bump. "Plus, you get a whole four more years until Rebekah's here, too."

Emma laughed and shook her head, getting in and buckling up. She sniffled and turned to him once he was in the car and starting to drive away. "It's not that she's at school already. I mean, it _is_ that she's at school already and she's such an independent little girl, but it's not that. It's…" Emma took a breath. How did she explain to Will what had just happened in the exchange with her daughter?

"Remember back when I had that accident when I was married to Carl?"

Will nodded, his hands clenching onto the steering wheel tighter. He hated when they brought up Carl, but it was necessary.

"I didn't tell you _everything _that happened."

After she'd come to Will that one July day, she had only told him about the annulment. Emma hadn't divulged anything about when or how the decision to separate came up, just that it was done and over.

Will came to a stop outside of the café they were going to for breakfast and turned to Emma. "Want to talk about it?" She nodded, "Yeah, I think I need to if you are going to understand this."

They got out of the car and went inside to their usual table. A young girl came over and they ordered their usual and once they were settled with their breakfast, Emma jumped into her story. She told him everything.

She followed him into the darkness after the car slammed into them.

She saw her life with him. She saw Millie – who looked identical to their current daughter. She explained about expecting a daughter named Rebekah with him. The ordeal with dream-Carl. The moment when she met her grandmother and was told to follow her heart. How she followed Will back into consciousness. She told him about telling him she couldn't because at the moment it was too much to handle, then about her visit with Carl and spending every moment after that thinking of Will until she showed up on his doorstep. Finally, she explained how just before she met her grandmother, she made the promise to Millie that she'd always come back, and how their daughter recounted that moment to her just before going into class.

When Emma finished, she took a breath and looked at Will. He'd long since abandoned his breakfast and was looking at a random spot in the table as Emma's words fell on his ears. When he said nothing after a few moments, Emma swallowed, wondering if she was wrong in telling him.

"Will?"

He shook his head and his eyes snapped up at her. "Emma…"

"Will, I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything."

"Emma…"

"I know, it's crazy, and probably just a coincidence, but—"

"Emma!"

Her words were effectively cut off and she looked up at him, biting her lower lip. There were a few tears in his eyes and he shook his head, staring at her. He had no idea how to tell her what he was feeling about all of this. He had no idea how to tell her that the accident leading her to him, though terrible, was the greatest thing that could have happened for them. He had no idea how to convey the feeling of love in his heart for her, hearing that he was what she wanted when she almost had nothing at all, not even air to breathe. Instead, he got up from his side of the table and slid onto the booth bench that she was sitting on. He kissed her sweetly and looked at her, brushing her hair out of her face.

"All that time that you were thinking of me? I was thinking of you," That she already knew, as Will told her long ago that he'd contemplated suicide in the event that she died. "I love you."

Emma smiled. "I love you, too."

They gazed into each other's eyes for a moment before Will sighed.

"Should we go home and relax before Millie comes home and talks our ears off?"

Emma laughed, nodding, "I think so."

Will threw money for their food down on the table and stood, helping Emma out of the booth and lacing his fingers with hers. They walked out of the café and got into the car, Will and Emma both buckling up before Will started the car and started heading home. Emma turned on the radio and smiled, turning it up as _Thinking of You _by The Maine came on. She smiled over at Will and reached over, kissing his cheek and resting her head against his shoulder as they proceeded home, finally thankful for the life she'd been given.


End file.
